Rosa POVI wasn't snooping. That was the first thing I told myself when my hand found the box in his drawer, the same drawer I had opened weeks ago, the same drawer I had told myself I wouldn't open again. I was looking for a phone charger because my phone was dying and his office had the only outlet that worked and I had already checked the desk twice and the drawers were the last place I looked.The box was old, velvet, worn at the corners like someone had held it many times over many years. It was not the same box I had found before. That box was new, velvety smooth, the kind of box a jeweler gave you when you bought something expensive. This box was different. This box had been opened and closed and opened again, handled and carried and passed from one person to another.I opened it before I thought about what I was doing.Rose gold. Elegant. Not new. A ring that had belonged to someone else, worn by someone else, maybe loved by someone else. The band was thin and the stone was sm
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